Robert BruceFully Charged
May 25th 2010 06:43
This little story was not funny at the time but I look back at times and wonder.
Early sixties and I was contracting to a company that specialised in farm buildings- Hays sheds, machinery sheds, shearing sheds and any other kind required by a farmer. Christmas was closing in with a gallop and my workman decided to have an early holiday and quit. Only little me left and two sheds to complete by Christmas. Neither were big jobs and two men with experience could have them done in two weeks. I had the right equipment and tools. Bugger it, I'll do two small sheds on my own and still get off for Christmas.
I loaded the old dodge truck with all the tools, food, camping gear on a Wednesday night and left home early Thursday morning.
Found the farm where the first shed was to be built and met the farmer who showed me where to camp and where he wanted his new shed. Right under the eleven thousand volt power lines. I unloaded the camping gear, food etc in an old shearing shed and went to the new shed site where I unloaded concrete mixer tools and ladders. Then I put up the truck mounted crane. Climbed up and estimated the gap between the top of the crane and the power lines to be about six feet. Plenty of room.
Hardly pausing to eat I set out the building, dug the necessary holes for the metal posts to go in and assembled all the steel trusses etc. bolted the posts to each truss and had the lot laid out ready to stand by the time it got dark. Went to the shearing shed and cooked myself a meal and went to bed after doing the dishes and securing everything edible from any marauding rodents that may be around.
Friday morning. Got out of bed and cooked breakfast in the dark and had a leisurely cup of coffee while waiting for enough daylight to get to work. Sunrise is always a beautiful time of day wherever you may be. The changes from dark to light to bright sunshine always fascinates me. But work calls. Hooked up the crane and stood all the posts with roofing trusses attached, put up the rails to hold the walls together and secured everything in its place. Then took the roofing timbers, the purlins, and bundled them in bays for easy lifting with the crane. Loaded up the roof with bundles and drove the truck with the crane still up, out of the way so I could work unhindered. I opened the driver’s door, with my right hand on the float rail and my left hand on the door,
I put my right foot on the ground. How utterly beautiful everything looked, all in shades of crimson – the shed , the fence, the paddocks and the hills in the distance.
I am floating, somewhere in the air above the Cowra Hospital; but I am looking at myself, swathed in bandages with tubes and things stuck everywhere, lying peacefully in a hospital bed. That can't be, I'm here, up above the Hospital where i can see the roads, the houses, the cars and those tiny people walking about. Yet I have a clear sight of myself in that hospital bed. I feel no pain, I have no worries or concerns about anything at all. It's peaceful up here, so very peaceful.
Sunday, I am in that hospital bed, I have electrical burns on both hands, my back, and my right foot, and I am in agony. Slowly my brain worked out what happened. I had visitors, first, my wife who was very , very upset and very pregnant; then the local representative of the power company who was amazed that I was still alive and said so; then police and insurance guys and I don't know who else. It was all very confusing and my mind just wasn't up to it. I said I wanted to go home to Dubbo some 200 kilometres away. That threw a spanner in the works. I waited. My father -in law came in to the hospital to say he had picked up my truck and all my gear and would take the lot back to Dubbo for me. He also said that my little escapade had blacked out hundreds of farms in the district when i shorted out the power line. I didn't give a damn.
It seems that when I had moved the crane away from the shed to clear my working space I had unknowingly hooked the crane top onto the power lines and stopped. The truck was then very much electrified and when I got out of the truck, I actually earthed the power line through my own body. In theory I should have been killed instantly.
After lunch a doctor came in and said I could go to Dubbo with my wife driving and to go straight to Dubbo Base Hospital when I got there. I said OK, and we left in my own car with the missus driving. I was loaded with painkillers, my right foot wrapped up like an Egyptian mummy, my hands with various bandages on them and a very muddled mind. My missus was not a good driver but she was careful. About an hour out and she stopped the car. I thought the road was a bit rough, but then gravel roads are. She said we had a flat tyre. Whoopie Doo!!” Change the damn thing then.”
“I can't get the nuts off the wheels, they are too hard.” There was nothing else for it. Out I get and changed the tyre. Great pain, bad temper, and hot dusty road did nothing for our relationship.
Finally, we arrived at our own home. I said with no consideration for anyone," I stink, and I want a bath before I go to hospital" I had my bath with great difficulty and, fo course, much pain. The drugs from Cowra had just about worn off as it was a 3 hour trip to get home. My missus took me up to Dubbo Base.
On arrival there we were rushed with Doctors, nurses and wardsmen, all doing their best to get me into the treatment area.
They had been advised by Cowra that I was on my way and the extent of my injuries. I was by now in too much pain to care one way or the other. More tubes, bandages, bits of wire connecting me to an array of gadgets and a lovely needle with something in it that gave me complete freedom from the agony of the last hour or so. I must say I congratulate the staff at Dubbo Base Hospital. They were advised that a patient was en route to the hospital with third degree electrical burns and would require immediate attention. They were there, ready and willing to do just that.
I was placed in an examination room and all my injuries were checked and examined closely. They found that my foot was a very serious burn and was already infected. Gangrene had already started. In order to save my foot, and thereby my ability to walk normally and hold down a job, the gangrene would have to laboriously and continually excised manually. In plain language, they were going to cut the rotten bits off every single day until only good flesh was left. This had to be done without anaesthetic so I could tell them when they had reached living flesh. I was admitted as a patient and went through this process each day for two weeks. Then I was allowed to go home provided I returned to the hospital each day for more of the same.
The pain I endured was excruciating, to say the least. My dear wife declined to come with me each day due to two factors: one, she had to care for the small children at home and two, the smell of my foot unwrapped was disgusting and turned her stomach. Our car was an automatic, so I took myself each day for two months. I always had to wait at the hospital for an hour or so to recover enough from the excising ordeal to drive the four miles home again.
During this time my income dropped from several hundred pounds a week to the princely sum of ten pounds, two shillings and six pence. The creditors loomed on the doorstep and it was not long before everything of any real value was gone. They did leave the car so we would not be stranded out of town. There was no public transport, so this was a great help. During this period I remember one incident that remained foremost in my mind for many years. I had returned from the hospital and was have a cuppa in the kitchen, the missus had been bathing the little ones and had left two of them in the bath. The older one came into the kitchen and I asked casually;”Where’s Fiona?’ The reply galvanised me into action I was to regret. “ She’s asleep in the bath”. I took off running with visions of a toddler drowned in the bathwater. Bugger the rotting foot, speed was essential. When I reached the bath I was relieved to see my wee toddler lying in about an inch of water sound asleep and in no danger whatsoever. My foot let me know in no uncertain terms that it was not ready to walk on yet. I almost collapsed in an untidy heap with the pain of it.
A phone call to the hospital about this incident necessitated another trip to the hospital where I was admitted once more. For a week I had a constant companion in that room, my nurse, my own special nurse. I was not there long this time as I recovered quite quickly from the run to the bathroom. Also, it was Christmas time. So I went home for Christmas. Still had to visit the hospital for the daily dose of agony, but I was at home with the family for Christmas. Fate was not yet finished with me though. My very pregnant wife went in a form a labour on Christmas eve, no less, and I had to take her to hospital where she was admitted straight away. What a life I had. Myself disabled to a point, my wife in hospital, and three kids at home for me to look after. Not a very nice time at all. In fact it was !!**??!*#.
A week of this and the labour pains settled down, my rotten foot continued to heal, the kids were wonderful and seemed to understand all that was going on, then the wife came home again. Life was sort of normal except for the total lack of money. I found that human generosity is wonderful when a station wagon came out to our place and a very nice couple asked if we would accept s few groceries to help us out. We had to accept as the cupboard was almost bare. I was more than a little surprised when they unloaded about three months worth of non perishable stuff into our house. We could at least feed ourselves and the kids. What a relief.
Next visit to the hospital brought good news; the gangrene was gone and they could now rebuild my foot to maybe become a useful part of me once more. I went home with the good news and made arrangements for my next stay in a hospital bed. Next day I was readmitted and preparations for the delicate surgery carried out. I won’t go into details but it did take the best part of two days to get everything ready, including me. So to the operating theatre and oblivion. What they did is still unknown to me, but I was told I spent a long time in the operating theatre and some time in recovery before I was returned to my own bed. Fresh bandages had now appeared on my thigh, when I asked I was told that was where they took the skin for grafting onto my foot. A week and I was home again. Glad it was all over. Well, I thought it was. I had not reckoned on that as yet unborn baby.
Once more the labour pains came into prominence. Back to the hospital again. Tests and examinations revealed that a normal birth was impossible so arrangements were made for a caesarean section to be done quickly. I returned to the problem of being a hopping dad looking after the kids while mum was in hospital taking delivery of the next one. I won’t say I was anything special but I did sort of manage for a week until mum-in-law could some over from another town to help. Daughter number five arrived kicking and screaming with all facilities functioning perfectly. New mum came home after a few weeks rest and recuperation and life at home settled once more to a sort of normal. Our landlord was quite generous and did not complain when we paid no rent for moths, so we all survived reasonably well.
As my physical bits and pieces healed and life settled my creditors came and completed their collection of things they could sell to recover what I owed. So my car went bye byes and i had to catch the school bus to town, or walk. Walking was not an option. Again, the generosity of people came to my rescue and our chemist gave me enough cash to buy an old car to use. I am forever in his debt, such a wonderful gesture made life bearable again. My foot healed pretty well, my wife healed and the new baby prospered. Now to find a job I could do on solid ground to get my life on track again.
It took every bit of seven months for all the foregoing to happen and writing it out like this makes me realise yet again that human relationships, friends, acquaintances, and family are priceless things to have. My wife of that time is long gone now, remarried after our divorce and her second hubby passed away after a few years with an insidious form of cancer, my kids have all grown up and made their own lives, my grand kids are out of touch with me, and I write. Life is not bad at all and I am not alone, I met a lovely lady about ten years ago and we are still together. We have a simple, yet rewarding life, and we are content. We both write.
Early sixties and I was contracting to a company that specialised in farm buildings- Hays sheds, machinery sheds, shearing sheds and any other kind required by a farmer. Christmas was closing in with a gallop and my workman decided to have an early holiday and quit. Only little me left and two sheds to complete by Christmas. Neither were big jobs and two men with experience could have them done in two weeks. I had the right equipment and tools. Bugger it, I'll do two small sheds on my own and still get off for Christmas.
I loaded the old dodge truck with all the tools, food, camping gear on a Wednesday night and left home early Thursday morning.
Found the farm where the first shed was to be built and met the farmer who showed me where to camp and where he wanted his new shed. Right under the eleven thousand volt power lines. I unloaded the camping gear, food etc in an old shearing shed and went to the new shed site where I unloaded concrete mixer tools and ladders. Then I put up the truck mounted crane. Climbed up and estimated the gap between the top of the crane and the power lines to be about six feet. Plenty of room.
Hardly pausing to eat I set out the building, dug the necessary holes for the metal posts to go in and assembled all the steel trusses etc. bolted the posts to each truss and had the lot laid out ready to stand by the time it got dark. Went to the shearing shed and cooked myself a meal and went to bed after doing the dishes and securing everything edible from any marauding rodents that may be around.
Friday morning. Got out of bed and cooked breakfast in the dark and had a leisurely cup of coffee while waiting for enough daylight to get to work. Sunrise is always a beautiful time of day wherever you may be. The changes from dark to light to bright sunshine always fascinates me. But work calls. Hooked up the crane and stood all the posts with roofing trusses attached, put up the rails to hold the walls together and secured everything in its place. Then took the roofing timbers, the purlins, and bundled them in bays for easy lifting with the crane. Loaded up the roof with bundles and drove the truck with the crane still up, out of the way so I could work unhindered. I opened the driver’s door, with my right hand on the float rail and my left hand on the door,
I put my right foot on the ground. How utterly beautiful everything looked, all in shades of crimson – the shed , the fence, the paddocks and the hills in the distance.
I am floating, somewhere in the air above the Cowra Hospital; but I am looking at myself, swathed in bandages with tubes and things stuck everywhere, lying peacefully in a hospital bed. That can't be, I'm here, up above the Hospital where i can see the roads, the houses, the cars and those tiny people walking about. Yet I have a clear sight of myself in that hospital bed. I feel no pain, I have no worries or concerns about anything at all. It's peaceful up here, so very peaceful.
Sunday, I am in that hospital bed, I have electrical burns on both hands, my back, and my right foot, and I am in agony. Slowly my brain worked out what happened. I had visitors, first, my wife who was very , very upset and very pregnant; then the local representative of the power company who was amazed that I was still alive and said so; then police and insurance guys and I don't know who else. It was all very confusing and my mind just wasn't up to it. I said I wanted to go home to Dubbo some 200 kilometres away. That threw a spanner in the works. I waited. My father -in law came in to the hospital to say he had picked up my truck and all my gear and would take the lot back to Dubbo for me. He also said that my little escapade had blacked out hundreds of farms in the district when i shorted out the power line. I didn't give a damn.
It seems that when I had moved the crane away from the shed to clear my working space I had unknowingly hooked the crane top onto the power lines and stopped. The truck was then very much electrified and when I got out of the truck, I actually earthed the power line through my own body. In theory I should have been killed instantly.
After lunch a doctor came in and said I could go to Dubbo with my wife driving and to go straight to Dubbo Base Hospital when I got there. I said OK, and we left in my own car with the missus driving. I was loaded with painkillers, my right foot wrapped up like an Egyptian mummy, my hands with various bandages on them and a very muddled mind. My missus was not a good driver but she was careful. About an hour out and she stopped the car. I thought the road was a bit rough, but then gravel roads are. She said we had a flat tyre. Whoopie Doo!!” Change the damn thing then.”
“I can't get the nuts off the wheels, they are too hard.” There was nothing else for it. Out I get and changed the tyre. Great pain, bad temper, and hot dusty road did nothing for our relationship.
Finally, we arrived at our own home. I said with no consideration for anyone," I stink, and I want a bath before I go to hospital" I had my bath with great difficulty and, fo course, much pain. The drugs from Cowra had just about worn off as it was a 3 hour trip to get home. My missus took me up to Dubbo Base.
On arrival there we were rushed with Doctors, nurses and wardsmen, all doing their best to get me into the treatment area.
They had been advised by Cowra that I was on my way and the extent of my injuries. I was by now in too much pain to care one way or the other. More tubes, bandages, bits of wire connecting me to an array of gadgets and a lovely needle with something in it that gave me complete freedom from the agony of the last hour or so. I must say I congratulate the staff at Dubbo Base Hospital. They were advised that a patient was en route to the hospital with third degree electrical burns and would require immediate attention. They were there, ready and willing to do just that.
I was placed in an examination room and all my injuries were checked and examined closely. They found that my foot was a very serious burn and was already infected. Gangrene had already started. In order to save my foot, and thereby my ability to walk normally and hold down a job, the gangrene would have to laboriously and continually excised manually. In plain language, they were going to cut the rotten bits off every single day until only good flesh was left. This had to be done without anaesthetic so I could tell them when they had reached living flesh. I was admitted as a patient and went through this process each day for two weeks. Then I was allowed to go home provided I returned to the hospital each day for more of the same.
The pain I endured was excruciating, to say the least. My dear wife declined to come with me each day due to two factors: one, she had to care for the small children at home and two, the smell of my foot unwrapped was disgusting and turned her stomach. Our car was an automatic, so I took myself each day for two months. I always had to wait at the hospital for an hour or so to recover enough from the excising ordeal to drive the four miles home again.
During this time my income dropped from several hundred pounds a week to the princely sum of ten pounds, two shillings and six pence. The creditors loomed on the doorstep and it was not long before everything of any real value was gone. They did leave the car so we would not be stranded out of town. There was no public transport, so this was a great help. During this period I remember one incident that remained foremost in my mind for many years. I had returned from the hospital and was have a cuppa in the kitchen, the missus had been bathing the little ones and had left two of them in the bath. The older one came into the kitchen and I asked casually;”Where’s Fiona?’ The reply galvanised me into action I was to regret. “ She’s asleep in the bath”. I took off running with visions of a toddler drowned in the bathwater. Bugger the rotting foot, speed was essential. When I reached the bath I was relieved to see my wee toddler lying in about an inch of water sound asleep and in no danger whatsoever. My foot let me know in no uncertain terms that it was not ready to walk on yet. I almost collapsed in an untidy heap with the pain of it.
A phone call to the hospital about this incident necessitated another trip to the hospital where I was admitted once more. For a week I had a constant companion in that room, my nurse, my own special nurse. I was not there long this time as I recovered quite quickly from the run to the bathroom. Also, it was Christmas time. So I went home for Christmas. Still had to visit the hospital for the daily dose of agony, but I was at home with the family for Christmas. Fate was not yet finished with me though. My very pregnant wife went in a form a labour on Christmas eve, no less, and I had to take her to hospital where she was admitted straight away. What a life I had. Myself disabled to a point, my wife in hospital, and three kids at home for me to look after. Not a very nice time at all. In fact it was !!**??!*#.
A week of this and the labour pains settled down, my rotten foot continued to heal, the kids were wonderful and seemed to understand all that was going on, then the wife came home again. Life was sort of normal except for the total lack of money. I found that human generosity is wonderful when a station wagon came out to our place and a very nice couple asked if we would accept s few groceries to help us out. We had to accept as the cupboard was almost bare. I was more than a little surprised when they unloaded about three months worth of non perishable stuff into our house. We could at least feed ourselves and the kids. What a relief.
Next visit to the hospital brought good news; the gangrene was gone and they could now rebuild my foot to maybe become a useful part of me once more. I went home with the good news and made arrangements for my next stay in a hospital bed. Next day I was readmitted and preparations for the delicate surgery carried out. I won’t go into details but it did take the best part of two days to get everything ready, including me. So to the operating theatre and oblivion. What they did is still unknown to me, but I was told I spent a long time in the operating theatre and some time in recovery before I was returned to my own bed. Fresh bandages had now appeared on my thigh, when I asked I was told that was where they took the skin for grafting onto my foot. A week and I was home again. Glad it was all over. Well, I thought it was. I had not reckoned on that as yet unborn baby.
Once more the labour pains came into prominence. Back to the hospital again. Tests and examinations revealed that a normal birth was impossible so arrangements were made for a caesarean section to be done quickly. I returned to the problem of being a hopping dad looking after the kids while mum was in hospital taking delivery of the next one. I won’t say I was anything special but I did sort of manage for a week until mum-in-law could some over from another town to help. Daughter number five arrived kicking and screaming with all facilities functioning perfectly. New mum came home after a few weeks rest and recuperation and life at home settled once more to a sort of normal. Our landlord was quite generous and did not complain when we paid no rent for moths, so we all survived reasonably well.
As my physical bits and pieces healed and life settled my creditors came and completed their collection of things they could sell to recover what I owed. So my car went bye byes and i had to catch the school bus to town, or walk. Walking was not an option. Again, the generosity of people came to my rescue and our chemist gave me enough cash to buy an old car to use. I am forever in his debt, such a wonderful gesture made life bearable again. My foot healed pretty well, my wife healed and the new baby prospered. Now to find a job I could do on solid ground to get my life on track again.
It took every bit of seven months for all the foregoing to happen and writing it out like this makes me realise yet again that human relationships, friends, acquaintances, and family are priceless things to have. My wife of that time is long gone now, remarried after our divorce and her second hubby passed away after a few years with an insidious form of cancer, my kids have all grown up and made their own lives, my grand kids are out of touch with me, and I write. Life is not bad at all and I am not alone, I met a lovely lady about ten years ago and we are still together. We have a simple, yet rewarding life, and we are content. We both write.
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